


Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This

by CeaselessCow2011



Series: The Magnus Archives: Barely Canon [9]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Dreams, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:28:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28996722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeaselessCow2011/pseuds/CeaselessCow2011
Summary: Jon, Martin, Tim and Sasha keep having weird dreams. Coincidence? I think not.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Sasha James/Tim Stoker
Series: The Magnus Archives: Barely Canon [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1986040
Kudos: 6





	Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This

_crash._

There’s something so comforting in the way the ocean waves crash onto the shore of this secluded beach. The sand isn’t cold, but it isn’t hot either. It just… Is. The water is cold and the crash of the waves sound like a muffled sort of crash. It’s a nice sound that helps keep you grounded to, well, the reality that you live in. The sky is dark and void of clouds. Stars sprinkle the sky as the large full moon towers over it all. The moon knows what secrets you have, as does the ocean. They’re here for you. 

You don’t have a family. Not anymore. Not after the accident that took the life of your father. Not after Mom got sick. Not after the sicknesses that plagued your grandparents. You have no friends, either. They left you years ago, replacing you for newer, better friends. Not that it hurts. It can be comforting to be all alone in the world. No one knows who you are. No one’s around to know you. And even if someone were, who’s to say they’d want to know you anyhow? It’s easier this way. You’re not obligated to talk to anyone. It’s not like you talk much nowadays anyway. You tell the sky and the ocean your secrets. You tell the ocean and the moon above all about your life. They don’t judge. They don’t leave. They listen, unlike everyone else.

Sometimes, thoughts come to you. _How long have you been here?_ , they may ask. Time doesn’t matter anymore. It simply doesn’t apply to you. The sun marks the day and the moon marks the night, yes, but other than these passing yin and yangs, it doesn’t matter. It may have been months, years, decades, even. But you’re just here. Now. You’re here, on this secluded beach, so far away from everyone else in the world. You’re here, sitting on the sand on a cool, clear night. You’re here, and that’s all that matters. _What did you do today?_ , they may also ask. You don’t know. You’ve been sitting here on the sand all night. When the sun comes up, you go inside and eventually fall asleep until nighttime falls once again.

It’s that time again. You can see the sky getting brighter. You go inside and greet your cat. He’s always been there for you on the most lonesome nights, when it’s storming and your thoughts flood with how your life used to be. It wasn’t a great life. It had it’s downs. Maybe a few ups, such as finding this quaint island to spend the rest of your days alone and away from everyone else, but it was mostly filled with downs. You’ve had depression since childhood. _How old are you now?_

This is what you want. To be alone.

You make a cup of tea. You like the warm sweetness of a cup of black tea with a spoonful of sugar and a spoonful of honey. It fills your entire body with a pleasant warmth. You go to your bed and read a book after you’re done sipping tea and watching the waves of the ocean some more from outside the cold glass of the window. After you’re done reading, you sink into bed and close your eyes. You’re tired. You’ve had a long day. Or, rather, night. Or, well, a pleasant mix of both? Oh, no matter trying to get so caught up in how long you’ve been awake. You’ve been awake for too long. You sink in deeper into your bed. You can stay in bed all day, all night, for eternity, here in this quiet cabin, this safe space. You’re all alone. Isn’t that nice? You want this. You want to be alone. All alone. No one in the world can take this away from-

“-on?”

Was that a noise? It sounded like someone speaking. Maybe it was just you? You must be hallucinating…

“-on, please… Jon…”

You’re definitely hallucinating. There’s no one here except you. You’re all alone.

“Jon! Come on! Jon! Wake up!”

_Martin. That’s Martin’s voice… But why is Martin here? Wake up? I’m awake…_

A jolt of pain came across Jon’s face as he sat up, startled. He looked around. He was… Home. With Martin. In their house. Martin had tears on his face. Jon got worried. “M-Martin? Love? Are-Are you alright? What happened?” They wiped the tears off Martin’s face and held his face as gentle and close as he could.

“I should be asking you, Jon! You weren’t waking up! I tried to wake you but you just wouldn’t! I was so worried…” 

Jon sighed. “Oh, Martin… I’m fine, I promise. How’d you sleep last night?”

Martin rubbed his eyes and yawned. “I slept alright. I’ve been having odd dreams lately. How about you? How did you sleep?”

“Alright, I suppose. I also have been having odd dreams as of late.” Jon checked the time on his phone and his eyes widened. “Shit. We’re going to be late for work. We need to get up.” Jon got up and started for the dresser.

“Ah-” Martin sat up. “I’ll make us some breakfast while you get ready.” He said as he went for the door.

Jon said nothing more than a slight hum of acknowledgement as Martin left the room. Jon quickly changed, and as he did, he noticed all of his tiny pockmarks that littered his body. The fact that some, if not most, of these were self-inflicted, made him disgusted. He was revolted by himself. How could he be that insane as to hurt himself just because he felt the worms under his skin? He hallucinated it all. He was prone to hallucinating. He hated it. Before the Prentiss attack, he had at times swore he heard someone’s voice near him speaking his name, but he was all alone. He’d been alone a lot of his life, and he remembered this fact as he stared into the bathroom mirror, combing his grey-streaked hair. 

After he was ready to go, he went to the kitchen. Martin was waiting by the kettle. “Hello, Love.” Jon said, hugging Martin. Martin kissed the top of Jon’s head and hugged back.

“Hello.” Martin said lovingly. He loved his Jon so much. He wanted nothing more than to curl and cuddle into Jon for the rest of his life. His domestic romantic thoughts were cut short by the high pitched squeal of the steaming tea kettle. Martin poured the water into two mugs, pouring the water over tea bags. He brought out the honey and the sugar for Jon and made each of their teas. He took the mugs to the table before setting their food on plates and serving the two. Jon and Martin both sat at the table and quickly ate and drank before putting their shoes on and heading out to the Institute. 

It was a warm, peaceful spring day. Flowers of all kinds were in full bloom. Jon liked the more blue and purple flowers, and Martin enjoyed the warmer coloured oranges and yellows. Where there was grass, it was bright and healthy. It looked beautiful. The trees had bright, vibrant green leaves. Everything was flourishing in the spring air. Birds were singing their songs, dogs were playing in their yards, rolling in the grass. There were more people outside, too. It was nice and warm and it made it easier to smile. 

Once Jon and Martin went into the Institute, however, there was a different scene unfolding. Tim and Sasha were arguing.

“You need to stop working so much!” Tim said.

“How do you expect me to stop when I have _so much_ to do, Stoker?” Sasha asked.

“Well, I don’t know, maybe have Martin do some of it?! You push everything onto yourself so much, Sash, and it’s hurting you! You haven’t slept in three days! You’re bound to collapse like this! You know how much I-”

“Guys, guys, stop this, please.” Martin went in between the two. “How about we split the work, Sasha? You can get some rest today, you definitely deserve it. I can record some statements for you if you’d like. You can go and rest.”

Sasha started shaking her head and opened her mouth to speak when Jon cut in. “You seriously should rest, Sasha. I’m going to give you the day off. Just rest.”

Tim nodded. “See, these two get it. Come on, Sash, please?”

Sasha gave Tim a look, and Tim knew exactly what she meant. He nodded. “Can I go with her?”

“I suppose.” Jon said, nodding. “Well, I’ll be off then. You three have a good day.” Without another word, Jon left the group and went into his office. 

“Right, well, I’m off too. Have a good rest, Sasha! I’ll be sure to get as much done as I can, so don’t worry too much.” And with that, Martin was gone too.

Tim and Sasha went into one of the storage rooms that had cots and grabbed one. Tim led Sasha to his office and locked the door behind them. They cuddled together on the cot before falling asleep like that.

\--------------------

“Stoker, Earth to Tim Stoker.” Sasha said as she shook Tim’s shoulder. 

Tim groaned. “Mmm, five more minutes…” 

“No, Tim, you know that five more minutes to you is like, fifteen hours to everyone else. Come on, up up up.”

“Fine, fine, I’m up.” Tim sat up. “What time is it?” He asked, yawning.

Sasha looked at her phone. “Almost four.”

“Ah… Did you sleep well?”

“Uh… Well… I slept okay, I guess? I had weird dreams.”

“I did too. It’s weird.”

Tim and Sasha went into the breakroom where Jon and Martin were. Martin looked to them and smiled. “Hello!”

Tim waved. “Hey Marto.”

“How’d you two sleep?” Jon asked.

“We slept okay. Both had weird dreams.” Tim said casually.

“Oh, that’s odd! Jon and I have been having odd dreams lately as well.” Martin said, surprised.

Jon was quiet. He looked like he was thinking.

After a moment of silence, Sasha started talking. “Maybe we should talk about the dreams?”

Jon nodded. “That would be good. Let’s all have a meeting about this. Meet in my office in ten minutes, if you will.”

Everyone nodded. After everyone had made some tea and had their break, they all went to Jon’s office together and sat down. Everyone was silent as they looked at each other for a few moments.

Martin cleared his throat. “I guess I’ll go first? Um, well, in a lot of my dreams lately, I’ve been unable to move, and it feels like I’m an outside observer to everything. It feels nice, watching people go about their day. They speak sometimes, the people in the dreams. When they do speak, it’s like they’re giving statements. It’s weird, honestly. They just vent to me, and I listen. Not much else I could do. But it feels nice to listen to them, to hear their stories. It feels… Satisfying, almost? I know that sounds really odd, but… Still.”

“Dang. That does sound weird,” Tim started. “I’ve been having loads of weird dreams, lots of doors? Um, yeah, it’s mostly dreams where I’m walking down this trail and there’s this big fork with a bunch of different paths that lead to different doors and each time I try to go into one of the doors, nothing much happens, I can’t see much, only fuzzy lights. I can also barely hear things, but it’s like, it’s like someone’s talking but I can’t make out what they’re saying. And uh, yeah, that’s pretty much it.” He shrugged.

Sasha spoke next. “Every time I dream, I dream of weird things. It’s always vibrant colours. Distorted vision, kind of like a funhouse mirror. Everytime I speak, it echoes and doesn’t feel like I’m speaking. I don’t quite know how to describe it, but it feels nice, almost? Kind of like what Martin was saying as an almost satisfying feeling. It felt good, yet felt like I was losing myself. Suddenly I wasn’t Sasha James, I was… Well, I didn’t even know. I felt like I was going insane, but at the same time, I felt like I was okay with it.”

“Sounds pretty spooky if you ask me.” Tim said.

“Sounds terrifying, losing yourself and not knowing who you are anymore.” Martin chimed in.

Jon had been quiet the whole time. He felt invisible, and wasn’t about to draw attention to himself.

“What about you, Jon? You’ve not shared your sinister happenings yet.” Tim directed the question to Jon, looking at him.

“Me? Well…” Jon felt weird having to explain his dreams to the group, but knew he had no other choice. “Well, my dreams have been in the same few places, either on a secluded beach, at a busy place with a lot of people, or at home. When I’m at the beach, it is, as I said, secluded. I don’t do much at the beach; mostly I just watch the waves on the water, or look at the moon, or really just do anything I want. When I’m at the busy and bustling place, I’m like a ghost. No one can see me, no one can interact with me, It’s like I’m just not there. I try to speak to people or to touch people but I can’t for the life of me. And when I’m home, I’m always alone at home, and I’m just waiting. I don’t know what I’m waiting for, just someone to be there I guess? But anyway, no one ever comes, and I just sit there and wait. When I have these dreams, a feeling always comes along with this and it feels oddly comforting to be alone and invisible to the world.”

“Oh goodness…” Martin seemed really concerned, as did Tim and Sasha.

Jon cleared his throat. “Well, I think this has to do with this theory I have. You all remember how Elias would say things like, ‘Oh, you might just be marked’? As in, he’d speak of being ‘marked’ by things often. I don’t quite know what it means, but, I think these dreams we’ve been having are part of this. Whatever ‘this’ is. What I do know, is this can’t all be coincidence. I want all of you to stop your normal work and look into this, I will be looking more into this as well.”

Sasha hummed. “I can certainly do that.”

“Me as well.” Martin said, smiling softly.

Tim nodded. “Count me in.”

“Alright. Well, that’s that, I suppose. If any of you have any updates at all, tell me as soon as possible. Now, onto work.”

Tim, Martin and Sasha went off to do work, and Jon was yet again alone. After a few moments of silence, he sighed. 

Alone. He hated the thought of being alone, but it was oh so comforting. His own space. All to himself. No one could get him here. He remembered how concerned Martin looked when he was speaking about his dream. How devastated Martin looked as Jon talked about being alone. The indulgent thoughts of being all alone were cut off by him remembering what he needed to do next. He needed to figure out what these dreams were. He needed to know, no matter how long it took.


End file.
